


Hold On, With Me

by DoubleL27



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Competent David Rose, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Patrick Brewer, I Made Myself Cry, Loss of Parent(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27
Summary: David blinks awake slowly, the sound of choked sobs still disorienting as well as the way the bed slightly trembles. It takes another moment to click over that it’s Patrick that’s crying.His husband is hunched over as if physically in pain, curled up against the headboard.“Oh, honey,” David says, shifting himself into a seated position and reaching out toward Patrick.orDavid wakes up to his husband’s grief and does his best to help.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 15
Kudos: 165





	Hold On, With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [schittyfic (sixtysevenlmpala)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/gifts).



> For schittyfic who prompted: ⭐ **David wakes up to find Patrick crying in the middle of the night** ⭐
> 
> Content Warning: This instantly sent me to a dark place where Patrick was dealing with the grief of losing a parent. That’s what this fic focuses on. Please consider your own needs and emotional health when reading. I cried writing this, so...yeah. 
> 
> Title is from Noah Reid’s song, _Hold On_
> 
> This prompt fill is unbeta’d. All errors are entirely mine.

It’s the sound of sobs that wake him. At first they match the sobbing pattern of his mother in the dream, looking stunning in Alexander McQueen as she crumples to the floor, distraught over an imagined misstep in The Number. But then it shifts to a choked noise, in a way his mother rarely was, as if whoever it was was attempting to stifle their cries. David begins to separate from the dream, realizing the sound of crying probably caused the meltdown mid-The Number. 

David blinks awake slowly, the sound of choked sobs still disorienting as well as the way the bed slightly trembles. It takes another moment to click over that it’s Patrick that’s crying. 

His husband is hunched over as if physically in pain, curled up against the headboard. 

“Oh, honey,” David says, shifting himself into a seated position and reaching out toward Patrick.

His hand barely grazed over Patrick’s back before Patrick shifts away and chokes out between sobs, “I—I’m sorry. I should have...gone downstairs. I—I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“C’mere,” David says, reaching out and gathering Patrick into his arms. Thankfully, Patrick comes along bonelessly tucking his head against David’s neck. He presses two firm kisses to the top of Patrick’s head. “You don’t have to _go anywhere._ And there’s _nothing_ to apologize for.”

“I just...I thought I was past this.” 

“Mmm,” David hums, rubbing Patrick’s back in soothing motions. He focuses on trying to give Patrick as much comfort as he can through pure osmosis rather than saying aloud that he doubts Patrick will ever be past this. 

“I woke up, the store inventory was bothering me, and I just thought of something stupid I wanted to tell her. And so made a plan to call her at seven when I made coffee and then I...I remembered…”

“I know,” David soothes as the sobs return, shaking Patrick’s sturdy frame. “I know.”

If you had asked which of them would be the first to lose a parent, David never would have picked Patrick. No one would have predicted Marcy Brewer just not waking up one morning. It was as incomprehensible now as it was the morning Patrick’s aunt called to tell them. 

They’re six months into the grief that swamped Patrick and their marriage. Therapy helps, time helps, but Patrick wants so badly to be normal in a world that never really will be the same. 

David remains impressed with his husband who still gets up and goes to work, insisting that David shouldn’t shoulder the business alone after the week and a half closure. He still makes coffee just for David because Patrick doesn’t drink it, and still worries about the inventory at three in the morning. Patrick has helped Clint figure out Marcy’s accounts and how to be on top of the budget from a distance.David is pretty sure if the roles were reversed he might have ended up in the closet for a solid two months. The moments where Patrick admits he needs David always seem to creep up on them. 

“You know, you can wake me up, anytime,” David whispers. 

“I just...I have been such a mess...and I don’t…”

“I think we need to re-evaluate your concept of _a mess.”_

Patrick presses a kiss against David’s neck before nuzzling in closer. “I’ll tell my therapist you recommended that on Tuesday.” 

Silence falls between them, only the sound of Patrick’s shuddering breaths and the ticking of their bedroom clock. David’s years of being woken in the middle of the night to Alexis in some foreign country or to his mother’s wails, have trained him for this moment. He moves on autopilot to soothe even as Patrick’s grief breaks his own heart. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Patrick whispers.

“Well, the same goes.” David keeps up the soothing circles, even though the sobs have subsided again. “Do you want to tell me? The thing you wanted to tell your mom?”

“I told you it was stupid,” Patrick mumbles. 

David shifts them both so that they’re laying down, Patrick’s head pillowed on David’s chest. There are several wet spots on David’s sleep shirt, but it’s a small thing in the . He moves from flat handed circles to scratching Patrick’s back with his carefully manicured nails. Patrick gives a sound that’s almost a purr. 

“I know, but you listened to my rant about serums and moisturizers and why you need both yesterday.”

“You told me that was a product training,” Patrick says, amusement curling into his voice.

“I mean, it mostly was.”

“I was just thinking about the Jays game last night,” Patrick says.

“Mmhmm,” David murmurs.

“And, I mean, the bullpen is where everything fell apart.”

“Yes. Yup.”

David still knows next to nothing about baseball, but it’s easy to listen to Patrick tell him about all the changes he would make to the bulls and how it would result in safe things for games. David focuses on making listening noises and continuing soothing motions, until Patrick’s breathing evens out entirely. 

“Thank you, David,” Patrick slurs, voice heavy with sleep, as he finishes his story. 

“Anytime, honey,” David whispers, pressing a kiss to Patrick’s forehead as his husband slips off to sleep.


End file.
